


Not a Trace

by LadyDorian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Rough Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDorian/pseuds/LadyDorian
Summary: If love was said to leave scars on people's hearts, then surely the thing inside Mitaka was more of a chasm.





	Not a Trace

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed to write something short and sad.

The bed still smelled of them. At least, that's what Mitaka believed. In his mind, his memories, each time he crawled inside and stretched his body out on the sheets, though h _e_ knew with certainty that Hux had them stripped daily, laundered to the point of absolute sterilization. They were gone by the time he exited the shower, along with the clothes he'd worn the night before; the only traces of their encounter a damp towel slung over his shoulders, destined for the open arms of another hospitality droid.

He always arrived with his things in a small duffel: fresh uniform, shampoo, soap—easy to transport, easy to write off as a late night (or early morning) gym excursion, though he'd yet to be asked about it in passing. On occasion—when Hux was too entrenched in his work to even speak—he would sneak a bit of his hair gel, often considered "borrowing" a splash of cologne (had his fingers around the bottle once, before he managed to stop himself). It was a selfish want, an act that most likely wouldn't have gone without notice. But when he turned the thought over in his head, his eyes following the sparks of light that glittered across green glass, he realized how insignificant it would have been.

It wouldn't have mattered; not if _they'd_ all had the same idea.

 _Tritt Opan_ , the latest. Mitaka couldn't picture him without gritting his teeth.

 _Edrison Peavey_ , before that. A foul taste in his mouth.

 _Rodinon and Thanisson_. Simultaneously, for a full month.

 _That blonde engineer whose name he couldn't remember._ Twice. Only twice. He was too clumsy for a third.

Each of them had gotten under his skin, clung to the lust, the sweat that coated it. They were behind his eyelids, in his nostrils, the mantra of Hux's rank unable to drive their moans from his ears, no matter how loudly he screamed it to the ceiling of that soundproof room.

 

"You should know," Hux had said to him one night, while Mitaka was standing by the 'fresher, dabbing the slick from his inner thighs, "you're not the first officer I've bedded." Sprawled on his belly across the width of the mattress, he smiled as he held a lit cigarra between his fingers. "And in full disclosure, you probably won't be the last."

Mitaka had forced a smile of his own, before turning back to work. "I know, Sir."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

He remembered the towel becoming heavier, how he'd needed to clench it in his fist to keep it from slipping. "Not in the least, Sir. I'm here to pleasure you for as long as you require of me."

"Ah, Dopheld, you really are a jewel. Loyal, trustworthy. An exemplary officer. Now that I've found you, I'll be sure to take good care of you."

There'd come a rustle of movement from the bed, and when Mitaka looked up again, Hux was leaning back with his legs spread and his hips canted just so, fingers splayed under his sac to offer a teasing glimpse of pink between his cheeks.

"Come here and I'll show you."

 

The next time he passed Tritt Opan in the hall, he flashed him a sly, half-smile, supposing it would cheer him up a bit. The Captain didn't so much as nod in his direction or turn his eyes from whatever path they'd been on; he simply walked by as if Mitaka were already a ghost.

Late into their sleep cycles, as he lay awake and stared at his hands through the starlight blanketing Hux's bedroom, Mitaka thought he could see them slowly starting to disappear.

 

_"Ah! General! Harder! Please fuck me, General!"_

The words gushed from his lips like a fountain, a low, desperate groan that shook his core, throbbed through the tips of his fingers as he struggled to grasp the headboard behind him, knees pushed—no, _slammed—_ into his chest, until they practically leveled his shoulders. And then Hux was pounding into him exactly as he'd begged for—without remorse, without regard. So deep, Mitaka could almost feel him in his throat.

Finding his voice, he cried out again. _"Yes, right there! Please, don't stop!"_

He'd never let anyone take him so roughly; there was no pride to be had in limping to his post, hiding bruises beneath clothing or hoarding packets of bacta for personal use. But the men between his legs had never been General Armitage Hux, no matter how often he'd shut his eyes and imagined otherwise.

The first night he'd felt those teeth on his skin, Mitaka hadn't been able to keep himself from sobbing. A trickle of tears, hardly worthy of notice, yet Hux had gently swept them away with his tongue before bending down to bite him harder, so he could have the pleasure of doing it all over again.

It stopped being enough far too soon, that lingering ache of Hux throughout his body, in his bones. He wanted to open his collar each night and see the hickeys staining his neck; _needed_ to run his fingers over bloodied half-moons, and scratches that cleaved his sides into neat rows of flesh. Day in and day out, he would stand in front of his 'fresher mirror and watch them fade to white as he thought up ways to gather more, so they could never truly abandon him.

 

"Are you sure I can't persuade you to stay?"

His back to the bed, Mitaka busied himself with assembling his uniform. "You said it yourself, Sir, you'll need to be up early for the trip to base. Your shuttle leaves at 0600."

"Please, Dopheld, you know I hardly sleep as it is," Hux purred behind him, a cat scheming for a second saucer of cream.

"Perhaps if you'd take the sleep aids Doctor Innis prescribed, you wouldn't have such a problem."

"My, you're feisty today. Trying to win me over with your wit? Or are you just angling for a promotion?"

Mitaka fastened his belt, then quietly sank to the edge of the mattress to put on his boots. "No, Sir. I'm just looking out for you."

"Hmm...Maybe I should take you with me next time," Hux said after a short pause. "I could use a warm body waiting for me once I've finished trudging around through the snow."

If love was said to leave scars on people's hearts, then surely the thing inside Mitaka was more of a chasm, a pit into which he could cast his hopes and store his smiles to be summoned later, so no one would ever know just how unhappy he was. Turning slowly, he fished one of them out and displayed it for Hux. "You can call for me as soon as you return, Sir, and I'll come running. I promise."

"Well," Hux grinned, "how about a kiss goodnight then?"

Ever obedient, Mitaka leaned in and pressed his lips to Hux's. As he pulled away, Hux's thumb continued to follow, gliding from his chin to the mole on his jaw with a tenderness that had no right to exist.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant," he clucked, and gave his cheek a soft pat. "I'll see you in a few days."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, and showed himself out.

He didn't bother showering when he got back to his quarters, choosing instead to strip down to his britches in the darkness and feel his way to where he knew his bunk was waiting for him, its mattress a cold welcome home, though no more lonesome than the one he'd left behind.

 _Things will get better,_ he told himself. Eventually, he would be able to forget, to hold his head high like Captain Peavey, or travel the halls with the same stony countenance as Tritt Opan, peaceful as the night and clean as the sheets on Hux's bed each morning.

With a sniffle, he pulled the covers tight around his clammy skin and buried his face in the pillow, and as he fought for sleep to finally take him, Mitaka swore he could smell Hux's scent on the slipcase, though he'd never once laid his head upon it.


End file.
